


That Day

by alistairweekend



Series: Izelle Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, Character Death, Family Member Death, Gen, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alistairweekend/pseuds/alistairweekend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detailing Izelle's father's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Day

The day was a bright one, an unusual reprieve from the dreary weather of southern Thedas. Sun filtered through the trees of a forest in northern Ferelden, giving the foliage new vibrance to their verdant leaves and sparkle to the morning dew. It was as if nature was celebrating the recent end of the Fifth Blight.

A pair of elves, a man and a young girl, strolled through the forest, following a path only they seemed to see. They chatted quietly, languid smiles on their faces as they meandered through the trees. Occasionally they stopped, kneeling down to gather various bits of certain plants. The young girl, hair blazing a deep red when the dappled sunlight caught it, turned to her companion and beamed as they finished snipping the leaves off a spindly stalk.

“Grandmother said she was going to teach me how to make a new poultice today, Papa,” she stated proudly.

“Is that so?” The man chuckled, standing up after tucking the leaves into a pouch at his belt. He reached up, pulling the ponytail that held his fair hair tighter. “We had better get back to camp soon, then.”

The girl frowned slightly at the suggestion. “Well, not _that_ soon,” she corrected herself. “I like exploring.”

“Are you sure you’re not just avoiding your mother so you don’t get roped into skinning the meat for dinner, Izelle?” the girl’s father said teasingly, lips curved into a smirk and green eyes twinkling with humor.

Izelle bristled, indignant. “No! I mean, I’ve never been to this forest before. What if there are herbs we’ve never found before here?”

Her father laughed again. “I’m certain the clan has been here before, maybe just not since you were born.”

“Hmph.” Izelle pouted, arms crossing, as her excuse fell flat. “To be fair, I guess I am glad I’m a mage so I don’t have to be a hunter.”

“Yes, I’m glad too. You’d make a terrible hunter.”

“Papa!”

He grinned. “Besides, ‘Izelle, Keeper of Clan Lavellan’ sounds pretty nice if you ask me. We’re all very proud of you, _da'len_.”

Izelle sighed but smiled bashfully. “Thanks, Papa.”

The two of them kept moving in comfortable silence for several more minutes, then paused to collect more herbs. Izelle’s father frowned as he turned to see a bush full of wilted flowers. “Hm. Perhaps it’s still recovering from the winter.”

When Izelle saw the bush, she perked up. “Oh! I can show you a new trick I learned!” Her father raised his eyebrows in interest, silently prompting his daughter to continue.

Approaching the bush, Izelle took a breath, then closed her eyes and held her hands out over the shriveled flowers. A soft light emanated from her slim fingers, and when she opened her eyes, the flowers had returned to life, petals a bright red. But as she listened for her father’s words of praise, instead there was a sudden shout.

Izelle snapped her gaze up to see several armed people ahead. She had never seen such bulky, shiny armor before, the silver metal standing out starkly against the forest and making their wearers seem twice the size they likely were. Although helmets covered their faces, Izelle knew they were human. No Dalish would wear such garish metal.

One of the men was yelling and pointing straight at her. As he moved, the sun caught on his armor, highlighting the sword insignia engraved into his chestplate. “Apostate!”

A hand clutched Izelle’s shoulder, and she glanced up with wide eyes at her father, who did not attempt to hide the alarm on his face. “Izelle. Run.”

“But Papa—”

“ _Run!_ ”

There was such desperation in his voice that Izelle obeyed without further objection. She tore through the trees, branches snapping and twisting out of her way. More shouting and then, a clash of metal against metal, echoed behind her.

Should she go back to the clan? Izelle’s heart caught in her throat, its pounding resonating throughout her whole body. If she got other hunters to come help… But the camp was an hour’s journey away. It would be too late. But she couldn’t just run away while her father was back there with the soldiers. Tears beginning to pick at her eyes, Izelle turned around and started running back to the scene.

Once nearby, Izelle began climbing a tree. What was happening? Who were those men and why were they attacking? Was it because they were elves? _Apostate._ Izelle had heard the word before, mentioned by adults in snippets of overheard conversations. But she didn’t know what it meant. Why had she been called that?

Izelle reached a vantage point where she could observe the skirmish below. Her father had taken down two of the soldiers, but was surrounded by three more. Izelle didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know combat magic yet.

“Where is the apostate?” one of the men growled, sword at the ready. “Tell us where she went and perhaps we will spare you.”

“Never,” Izelle’s father spat.

“We aren’t going to hurt her. She just needs to be taken to a Circle.”

“And that makes kidnapping my daughter acceptable?”

“Have it your way. You Dalish savages all practice blood magic anyways, don’t you? Sympathizing with a blood mage is punishable by death.”

Izelle’s father had heard enough. With a shout he charged at the man who had spoken, dagger aimed for the chink at the heavy armor’s waist. But the soldier was not caught off-guard, and with a calm swipe disarmed his opponent and sent him to the ground. Before Izelle could even react, the warrior’s sword was plunged into her father’s chest. He let out a short cry, then was gone.

Izelle covered her own scream with her hands, vision going blurry with tears.

“Split up and search for the girl! If you find the Dalish camp before her, don’t attack. We can go back and raid them after we finish our original mission. I’ll take Stern and Arland’s bodies back to camp.”

Desperately trying to keep her sobs quiet, Izelle waved her hand and drew the branches of the tree around her with magic, hiding her from sight from all angles. She clung to the limb she sat on, listening as the clunky sound of the soldiers’ footsteps faded away, but even after she could hear them no more she didn’t dare let her cries grow loud.

She stayed there in the tree till dusk, too terrified to move in case the soldiers came back. The bark dug into her skin and left angry red, burning marks, and she began to lose feeling in her arms and legs, but still she remained.

Eventually the urge to go to her father’s side was too great, and Izelle scrambled down the trunk. She knelt by her father’s still, cold body, tears renewed and hot on her cheeks. With trembling hands, she reached out and held them over the hole in his chest and the surrounding red stains, just as she had done with the flowers. “Please…” Her hoarse plea was addressed to the Creators, whichever ones might be listening. But she knew it wouldn’t work. Balling her hands into fists, she rested them on his chest along with her forehead. This time she didn’t hold back her sobs.

She didn’t know how long it had been when the hunters arrived. The trek back to the camp, and the following few days, passed in a daze. All the clan mourned, but they had to move on in case the soldiers Izelle had described found the camp. Clan Lavellan never came back to the forest in northern Ferelden.


End file.
